Be Kind To My Mistakes
by RattusLabRat
Summary: Fourth part in my yet to be named series. She really was all alone..


**Be Kind To My Mistakes**

**Disclaimer:** _I still don't own a thing...donations are always welcome._

**A/N:** _Well, here's the fourth part of the series i have still to name. I have a few things written down, but nothing worthy as of yet. Eeeek! I haven't posted this until now because A) College was being a right bitch and the workload was hell B) my computer kept crashing each time i nearly finished a draft and C) My halloween costume went to pot and i think i might have to rent one out now..which is NOT cool! Urgh, anways...i still have a few ideas for another couple of stories for my series and i've nearly finished Trouble Lies Ahead, which is COOL! I also apologise for any spelling errors...i'm using wordpad which is crap...Soo...without further adooo, here is the fourth installment...and i got the title from a Kate Bush song...(Hangs head in shame at lack of creativity.)_

She missed him.

She missed his laugh, his smell...even his sexual innuendo's, but most of all she missed her poltergeist.

It had been two weeks since the demise of her ex boyfriend. So emotionally scarred from the fright he had gotten he had decided to sign himself in to a psychiatric unit for a minimum of three months. Lydia blamed herself, how could have she been so stupid as to invite over another fellow human being, knowing all along that her pesky poltergeist would be around? He'd promised though, and like a fool Lydia had believed he wouldn't play any pranks on Carl. She was sure that on her birth certificate the word ' naive ' was written where her middle name should have been.

College had been a nightmare for two weeks too, the lies and rumours following her around wherever she went. Some people thought she was a witch, others called her weird and the rest would follow her around under their watchful gaze making sure she didn't cast any more spells. The friends she did have were also wary of her now, the guy had only been with her a week and now he was in a minimum security psych ward being pumped full of drug cocktails. Even she knew it wasn't the ideal way to finish a relationship.

Lydia sighed and collapsed on her bed, nothing smelled of him anymore. Without Beetlejuice her apartment felt bare, she felt exposed. Waking up every night sighing his name hadn't done her any good neither, she always felt pathetic in the morning. She'd been on the verge of screaming his name quickly, just to get it over with. Show him how weak she was, how she needed his company to feel herself again, but the feeling had came and went like a shower of rain. Beetlejuice was the one in the wrong, not she.

Fingering her bed spreads material, her other hand made it's way under her pillow, she grasped for something with a desperate urgency and pulled it quickly from under her pillow. It was the handkerchief he had given her for no reason at all, because it was 'just there' he had said. It still smelled faintly of him and at times like these she would fall asleep with it cradled in her fragile fingers.

It was a royal blue coloured silk handkerchief, one of the many mysteries Beetlejuice had pulled from his pocket. He had shoved the balled up material into her hand and told her to keep it because it was ' clogging up some serious pocket room. ' Yeah right, she had squeezed the truth out of him the next day, finding out that like everything else Beetlejuice had, it didn't belong to him. He hadn't stolen it though, only traded...he never really went into details over the trade.

The material tickled her cheeks, but his faint scent floated up into her nostrils, and holding her breath she let a part of him inside of her.

She needed to call him, to see him, to talk to him. Lydia never thought in her right mind that she would need him like she needed him now but she was angry. Angry for what he had caused, what he had started. It would be several weeks before the rumours died down.

Turning on her back, she stared at her ceiling and swallowed. She'd call him, but she'd give him hell for what he did to Carl. An intake of air was heard in her silent bedroom before she whispered his name three times. "Beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeetlejuice."

She waited...and waited, yet her poltergeist did not show. There was no light show, no cackling and no comical popping noise. There was nothing, silence.

Lydia's gaze eagerly moved from area to area of her room, he was no where to be seen. Again she said his name, hoping that the first time was a mistake. "Beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeetlejuice."

He wasn't there. He had gone. Disapeared.

How could he?

Lydia felt her eyes welling up, tears of rejection building up into a waterfall of wild hurt and cascading from her beautiful lashes to the pale mass of her cheeks. He had abandoned her, left her for good all because of one small argument. The handkerchief in her hand was balled up, the silk now a mass of creases. She stared at it for sometime wondering why the hell she had kept it. She knew he would let her down at some point, he was a poltergeist not a human. Promises to him were like Sunday's to her, tedious and un important.

Laying her head on her pillow her tears soaked the fabric from a deep crimson to an almost brown/black. He didn't want her, Carl didn't want her either...slowly Lydia came to the realisation that in life nobody wanted her.

Hours later, Beetlejuice lay in mid air floating above Lydia, his jade eyes watching her intently as she slept. He had told himself two weeks ago that she was on her own, there was no going back. If she wanted that chump in her life, it was her choice. But there would be no more Beetlejuice...or so he had thought. Those two weeks without Lydia had been hell, he had had nothing to do. He couldn't even pluck up the energy to start trouble, or play a prank on an unsuspecting person..he just sat...or moped...or drank himself to a point where all his thoughts were filled with Lydia.

Lydia.

Just her name conjured up thoughts, certain thoughts a poltergeist like himself shouldn't be thinking. She was a breather...a human, it would never work. Not with his standards. He was trouble, even HE knew that and hurting Lydia wasn't an option.

She was a woman, a smart, intelligent woman with a smile he would love to think of as his own. His smile that only she would share with him, nobody else...but even that was just some lame fantasy he had conjured up in his drink addled mind. She'd find herself some handsome guy, with a body to die for, someone who could give her what she needed, a house with a white picket fence, a couple of kids and a golden retriever not a life filled with mirth and misery. He was only good for one thing, hurting people.

He tried to push all his stupid thoughts out of his head for a moment, he wanted to enjoy this, Lydia.

Slowly he floated down next to Lydia in her bed, she lay curled in a ball the silk handkerchief he had given her clutched in her right hand. He watched her for a couple of minutes, how her chest rose and fell with each breath she inhaled and exhaled.

She was his. No-one elses.

He cradled her in his cool wiry arms and listened to the slow beat of her heart. The heart he had damaged. He lifted his head and watched her face, whispering her name slowly, her eyes opened for a fraction of a second before closing again, a blissful smile on her lips.

"Missed you..." Her tired mumble brought a crooked smile to the poltergiest's lips.

"Back atcha, babe."


End file.
